


blue pillows

by dreamtowns



Series: rainbow days [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, BAMF Noctis Lucis Caelum, BAMF Prompto Argentum, Courting Rituals, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Light politics, M/M, Mild Language, No Prophecy Because Fuck Canon, Royalty, Secret Relationship, Social Media, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 16:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtowns/pseuds/dreamtowns
Summary: NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM DID U BUY ME A NEW CAMERAIM GOING TO FIGHT YOU IN THE PARKING LOT OF CRWOS NESTThe camera gleamed beneath the florescent lighting of his bedroom. It was a model Prompto once looked at wistfully in some magazine a few weeks ago but moved on because not only was it an expensive model, it belonged in the hands of professional photographers—not a teen who just so happened to have a knack for capturing pretty things.can we fight w our mouths bc angry make-outs sound hotPrompto rolled his eyes so hard, he gave himself a small headache.why do people think you’re so sweet and innocent?it’s the lucis caelum charm





	blue pillows

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Final Fantasy XV. All rights reserved to its developers: Square Enix. All that is mine is the plot of this story in particular and any original characters introduced. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made from this work. This is purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> As we got, like, zilch on the ‘courting rituals’ that take place on Eos, I’m making my own rules. This is going to have as little angst as possible—but there might be a few moments, though—but, overall, the end game is going to be Noctis and Prompto living a thriving life as old married people.

Although _many are quick to consider this tradition outdated, few deny the benefits of a traditional Lucian courting. Shaped after the myth of the nine days it took Shiva and Ifrit to become eternal lovers, it occurs in nine quarters, though the length of said quarters is dependent upon the couple. However, the full courtship period must have a nine-month duration at minimum, and each quarter must be, at minimum, a month-long, in order to be considered legitimate in the eyes of the law. Furthermore, all parties involved in the courtship must be sixteen years of age before it commences._

**THE RISE AND HISTORY OF TRADITIONAL COURTSHIP: VOLUME IV**

* * *

When Prompto stepped off the train, his phone buzzed. He matched the brisk pace adopted by other people as he exited the train station and shivered as the cold air welcomed him. Prompto slipped his phone out of his pocket and opened the message, careful to keep an eye on where he walked, but by now he had mastered the art of walking and texting.

It was Noctis.

The edges of Prompto’s lips twitched. _Of course, it was_. Ignis had once joked that Noctis couldn’t go an hour without texting Prompto and, well, the soon-to-be advisor to the king wasn’t wrong in the slightest.

> _there’s a surprise waiting @ home_.

Prompto raised an eyebrow as he entered his neighborhood. He spared a moment or two to greet his neighbors and those he came across before he thumbed back a response. _PLEASE tell me u didn’t sneak out of the citadel._

The reply was quick, but that was normal. _of course not, iggy would murder me._

Prompto snorted and dug his keys out of his pocket. A quiet house greeted him as he entered his house, a sight that Prompto had long since gotten used to, and he locked the door behind him with a sigh. Unwrapping his scarf and humming a slight tune he’d overheard from a commercial, he slipped out of his jacket, scarf, and shoes before he made his way upstairs.

He couldn’t resist responding to Noctis, though. Noctis was known to get antsy if Prompto never messaged him back for long. A fact many Crownsguard and Kingsglaive members teased him about—the thought made Prompto snort again. It was always amusing to see everyone think and tease them about their ‘crush’ on each other, completely oblivious to the fact that he and Noctis were in a relationship since they were sixteen.

> _im home [dancing chocobo emoji]. where’s the surprise._

Prompto eyed his parent’s empty room with pursed lips. He’d have to sweep through it with the duster again—third time that week, and he sighed. His phone chimed with another message.

> _bedroom [winky face emoji]._

His laughter echoed. _OMG U DID SNEAK OUT._

> _SUCH SLANDER AT YOUR PRINCE._

He rolled his eyes. If the rest of the world were aware of how dramatic Noctis could become when comfortable, all articles about him being Lucis’ “quiet and reserved darling” would die in a fiery death. Excitement bubbled forth in his veins as he approached his bedroom, and he wasted little time in opening the door and flicking on the light.

“Noct, what—?”

Prompto stared.

The wrapped gift on his bed stared back.

Prompto fumbled with his phone but managed to capture a shaky picture of the gift and sent it to Noctis with the caption _WHAT IS THIS THIS IS ILLEGAL._ Noctis replied with a paragraph of Moogle emojis chittering with laughter. A couple seconds passed, after Prompto responded to the laughter with a picture of a displeased cat, and Noctis called.

He answered immediately. “Hi, hello—what’s with the gift?”

Noctis chuckled, light yet somehow throaty. Chills crawled up Prompto’s spine. “What? I can’t spoil my baby?”

Prompto sputtered. Words melted in his mouth.

Although they had been dating—not really dating, in the modern sense, but _that_ was a thought process for another time—since they were sixteen, Prompto still hadn’t gotten used to Noctis’ penchant for pet names. It caused a few raised eyebrows and looks around the Citadel when it first happened, but everyone became used to Noctis calling Prompto ‘sweetheart’ or other tooth-rotting nicknames by their junior year. Funnily enough, Noctis once received weirded looks and questions when he called Prompto _Prom_ instead of a fluffy nickname that would give anyone diabetes.

Some of the staff members looked disheartened at the mere thought of their hypothetical friendship breakup. A Guard and Glaive duo pulled Prompto aside in an attempt to give him advice on how to deal with rocky moments during a friendship. It was the most bizarre and hilarious conversation he had ever been in—and that was counting the time he once helped Noctis smuggle five stray cats inside the Citadel, lost said stray cats, and then had brunch with King Regis as if nothing was wrong while one of the cats lounged in a flower pot a few feet away.

“I mean . . . there’re no laws saying no,” Prompto started slowly and then squinted. “Wait—there aren’t any laws about you, like, buying my stuff, right? Like, are you going to get—?”

“Sweetie, calm down,” Noctis said, and Prompto was kind of glad no one else was around to see how scarlet red he could become. Well, his teddy bears got an eyeful, but they were his bros and they wouldn’t squeal. “I used my personal funds—you know, my paycheck money—but there isn’t any sort of laws about who nor what I can spend my money on . . . provided I’m not, you know, using the nations’ resources and all that.”

“I just—.” Prompto chewed on his bottom lip and lightly played with the bow atop the present. The impeccable presentation spoke of Ignis’ touch. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m, like, taking advantage of you or anything.”

Although at the other end of the city, Prompto knew Noctis rolled his eyes. “Baby, listen, no one will believe that except the tabloids—and according to them, I have a secret, pregnant mistress who lives in Meldacio HQ.”

Prompto laughed at that. Ever since Noctis reached courting age, tabloids and unreputable sites would constantly discuss whether he’d go the casual dating or extensive courtship route regarding his future spouse and would spout the wildest of theories and speculations about his relationships. Prompto once remembered an article about him during the beginning of their friendship—a magazine speculated that Prompto was the _long-lost prince to a forgotten kingdom_. 

“What happened to the one at Hammerhead?”

“Apparently she wasn’t exciting enough for me,” Noctis replied blandly, and it kicked off another round of laughter from Prompto. “Besides, I made it clear from the get-go that I like spoiling you—and so long as I don’t go _too_ overboard, it’ll be chill.”

“Well, damn, there goes my plan on having you get me my own Chocobo farm,” Prompto joked, and Noctis laughed.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Distant voices floated from Noctis’ end, and he shifted in a way that made the receiver crackle. “Have you opened it yet?”

“Not yet,” Prompto said and then tilted his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting? Are you playing _hooky_ , Noctis?”

Noctis made a protesting noise in the back of his throat. “Such faith you have in me,” he said in a teasing manner. “Matter of fact, I got out of that meeting a good hour ago—I’m doing my debrief with Iggy.”

Ignis’ voice, while distant and slightly muffled, carried over in a sternly amused tone. “I don’t believe your current actions fall within the parameters of an actual debrief, Highness.”

Prompto cackled. “Tell ‘em, Iggy!”

“Whose side are you on?” Noctis asked in mock hurt, but they could all hear the laughter in his voice. “And Iggy—I’m taking a break! I doubt you’d want melted brain matter on your notes.”

“What an astute imagery,” came Ignis’ desert-dry tone.

Prompto giggled, almost uncontrollably, for a few moments before he breathed, calmed himself, and said, “I won’t open this present unless you get back to work, mister.”

Noctis sputtered on the other end, and whined, “But I wanna hear your reaction when you open it!”

Prompto rolled his eyes, and Ignis muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _Astrals, help me_. “You’ll survive, you big baby,” Prompto said as he started pulling the edges of the bow. Gently, of course, mostly because the fabric used felt like it’d cost over a million crowns. Knowing the wealth of the Lucis Caelum’s, there was a high chance it might’ve.

“That’s right,” Noctis said victoriously. “I’m your baby.”

The heat on his cheeks couldn’t be healthy. “You’re doing that on purpose,” Prompto accused, but while he meant to have his voice be strong and unyielding, it came out wilted and warbled; muffled by the hand he rubbed across his face. “You _know_ how flustered I get!”

Noctis didn’t even bother denying it, only quipped, “Of course I’m doing it on purpose—I _like_ how flustered you get.”

Prompto pouted.

Thankfully, Ignis came to his rescue. “Alright, Noct—we must finish the writeup for our debrief before your training with Gladio . . . which will begin in an hour, if my schedule is correct.”

Noctis groaned like he’d missed a parry and had been all-but skewered by Gladio’s broadsword. “Fine, fine . . . I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Kay!”

Prompto could feel the softness of Noctis’ voice, velvety and warm as it draped over his skin, as he murmured, “Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too,” Prompto replied, just as soft and quiet even though he was the only one in the house. When the call ended, Prompto sighed and turned his attention to the innocuous mystery on his bed. “Now then . . . let’s see what this bad boy has.”

He left the bow spread out on his pillow and peeled off the wrapping like one would open a letter with their index finger. He huffed in amusement at all the tissue paper but soon discovered his prize as he batted the annoying material away. He blinked and then reached for his phone.

> _NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM DID U BUY ME A NEW CAMERA_
> 
> _IM GOING TO FIGHT YOU IN THE PARKING LOT OF CRWOS NEST_

The camera gleamed beneath the florescent lighting of his bedroom. It was a model Prompto once looked at wistfully in some magazine a few weeks ago but moved on because not only was it an expensive model, it belonged in the hands of professional photographers—not a teen who just so happened to have a knack for capturing pretty things.

> _can we fight w our mouths bc angry make-outs sound hot_

Prompto rolled his eyes so hard, he gave himself a small headache. _why do people think you’re so sweet and innocent?_

> _it’s the lucis caelum charm_

He snickered and then eyed the gift with a furrowed brow. While Noctis was truthful when he admitted to always spoiling Prompto—though, really, that mostly pertained to arcade games or a quick sushi bite or hot chocolate at the local café around the corner from school—it wasn’t his birthday or a holiday nor were there any special occasion—

It dawned on him like a rose in bloom. His breath escaped him as he stared down at the camera, the exact one he’d bemoaned to Noctis one random afternoon on not having the funds for it _but just watch I’m going to save up and treat myself_. His phone then chimed with another message from Noctis, and he managed to tear his eyes away from the camera to read it.

> _we’ve officially reached the fourth quarter._
> 
> _iggy said congrats :D_

His phone slid from his grasp and hit his carpet rug with a muted thud. Outside of his bedroom walls, the world moved on about its’ day—some of his neighbors next door discussing the biyearly neighborhood BBQ, someone drove by with loud music, a dog barked, and a child laughed. Someone had their sprinklers on.

“Well fuck,” said Prompto.

* * *

Prompto had always been insecure. If they had the tools developed, doctors would discover a gene for insecurity within Prompto’s DNA and brain. He was insecure about his weight, about running, about his hair, about the color of his eyes—the list continued. More piled onto it every day, and his anxiety disorder sure as hell didn’t ease the dark murmurs that hovered in his mind.

TL; DR: Prompto was a mess of insecurity.

So when Noctis approached him on the eve of his sixteenth birthday about a courtship, stammering through it with dark red cheeks and a bright, hopeful gaze, most of Prompto assumed it wouldn’t last. He thought it was a joke, really—the crown prince of Lucis, wanting _him?_ A boy who once choked on a milkshake in public because he swallowed wrong?

Prompto walked through the First and Second Quarter of their courtship on a daze, always waiting for the second shoe to drop; waiting for Ignis, who was their Witness—basically, the only person who would be aware of their courtship until they reached the Sixth Quarter—to turn around and say, “I’m very sorry, Prompto, but it has been decided that His Highness accept someone else’s courtship offer.”

The Third Quarter approached; a time of the courtship where Prompto and Noctis had to talk, in depth, about where they wanted their relationship to go—if they wanted to pursue other courtships, if they wanted to cancel their courtship, et cetera—as that quarter dictated Conversations About The Future. Prompto had word-vomited his insecurities on Noctis’ and Ignis’ lap, embarrassingly enough, and he’d thought they would be mad. Furious at his doubt in Noctis, in everything.

They weren’t mad. If anything, they were accepting and understanding of his hesitation and insecurity. It made the symbolic weight on Prompto’s shoulder ease in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

 _“I don’t care if it takes twelve years for it to sink in_ ,” Noctis had said, eyes fierce but warmer than Prompto had ever seen them, _“but you, Prompto Argentum, boy who once got banned from handling Chemistry equipment because he tripped on air and broke, like, twenty vials—.”_

 _“Hey,”_ Prompto had laughed, _“It was nine!”_

 _“—You are the one I want,”_ Noctis had continued; his voice now soft but no less firm and resolute. All the laughter had swallowed in Prompto’s lungs, at the flicker of the king, of the man, Noctis would once become. _“No one—not my father, not Ignis, not the Council—will be able to take you . . . take my choice . . . away from me.”_

His silent house was too much for his whirlwind of thoughts, so Prompto grabbed his phone and keys and traveled to the next best thing: the library.

 _Queen Aulea’s National Library_ had been built in memory of Noctis’ late mother, and it was the only library Prompto was remotely familiar with. Only a few short miles away from his neighborhood, Prompto didn’t even need to take the bus if he wanted to stretch his legs.

As he entered the library and waved to the staff—he liked to volunteer at the various events they hosted and sometimes he’d drag Noctis along—he made a beeline for the second floor. Although the first floor held a computer station, most of the children and teens clustered around it as it was positioned right in the middle of the Children and Young Adult section.

He signed in with his library card, opened up a new browser window, and got to work. He chose a nice cubicle by himself so that no one could lean over and see his search results. The last thing Prompto wanted was to be given advice and well-meaning questions about the courtship and who he was courting.

His phone buzzed. Noctis, most likely.

Prompto hadn’t responded to the previous text, too preoccupied with his thoughts and walk to the library. He should probably respond—before Noctis assumed _something_ had happened. The last time Prompto took a while to answer a text, Noctis nearly drove Ignis’ off the wall with his questions and thoughts of _okay, but how do you_ know _Prompto hadn’t been kidnapped?_

He clicked on the scanned PDF of an academic book that discussed Lucian courtship. The computer screen blinked at him, and the library faded from Prompto’s world as he stared at the information. Most of the information, he was aware of— _thank you Lucian History and Home Economics_ —but most of his knowledge focused on the general and brief overviews.

Prompto stared at the section labeled Fourth Quarter. His mouth dried. A lot of his classmates liked to joke around and call it the “sugar baby quarter.”

> The history of the Fourth Quarter is often subjected to the most criticism. Undoubtedly, its foundations can be seen in heteronormative gender roles—i.e., the man is the one providing for the woman. Nonetheless, as modern ideas developed and evolved, so did the Fourth Quarter.
> 
> In the traditional sense, one partner shows their ability to care for their significant other via gifts and other finances (i.e., paying off loan debt, house bills, et cetera). Typically, this belongs to the one that is more financially stable. However, in today’s society, most couples who partake in a traditional courtship participate in this Quarter equally.
> 
> In other words, the Fourth Quarter is the Exchange Quarter. Of course, while most of the emphasis has historically been placed on financial stability and providence, people can show their ability to provide for their partner via homemade gifts, food, et cetera.

A hysterical laugh bubbled in the back of Prompto’s throat. He swallowed it down, though, because he was in public—and, like it or not, due to his status as Best Friend to the Crown Prince, he had quite a bit of social presence. He refused to let people see him vulnerable. They might try and say his behavior was ‘unbecoming’ for someone so close in contact with Noctis.

Social commentary on his public presence aside, Prompto had no other choice than to accept his reality. He and Noctis were truly embroiled in a proper courtship. After he let that thought simmer for a few moments, he turned his attention to his unread messages. He had a missed call, which he grimaced at. Within the past thirty minutes, there were almost ten unread texts from Noctis.

Prompto understood Noctis’ behavior. There were a few kidnapping attempts over the few years—people who assumed Prompto was an easy target or thought he would cough up information about Noctis in the face of violence. He didn’t really have a security detail—well, now he did, after the fourth kidnapping—so, really, he got it. After Prompto had gotten snatched the second time (from a grocery store, no less; he’s still salty about his crushed eggs, by the way), Noctis become quite anxious if Prompto didn’t respond within ten minutes.

> _lol are u enjoying ur camera?_
> 
> _iggy is making me write up a whole thing abt this meeting smh it isn’t even interesting_
> 
> _…. Ok it’s been like. twelve minutes. U good?_
> 
> _[sad chocobo emoji][sad chocobo emoji][sad chocobo emoji]_
> 
> _when will my intended return from war._

He chuckled quietly in amusement. _Im ok. In library rn._

> _Boring :/_

Prompto stretched and idly surfed the web for a few more minutes. He had gotten the information he wanted. As his cursor blinked over the logout button, however, he paused, and a sudden idea fluttered in his mind. A slow smile spread over his lips as he began a new search, but he did take a moment to text Noctis.

> _I’ll be a bit late to dinner. Doing research._

His phone vibrated a few seconds later. _Research? On what?_

> _:)_

After a gif of someone trembling in fear, Noctis replied _i don’t trust that smile._

For effect, Prompto sent back three.

* * *

When it reached seven at night, Prompto edged into Noctis’ apartment. Since their courtship began, Noctis had proposed biweekly dinner dates that then turned to weekly that then became daily. It was commonplace for Noctis and Prompto to have dinner together most days. When they didn’t, it was mostly because Prompto’s parents were home or Noctis was needed at the Citadel.

“You’re late!” Noctis announced once Prompto slid off his shoes and walked into Noctis' line of sight. Ignis, kneading some dough in the kitchen, rolled his eyes. “What do you h—what’s that?”

“My liver,” said Prompto.

Noctis scrunched his nose. Ignis coughed in a way that did nothing to hide his laughter. “Ha, ha, you’re comedic gold,” Noctis said blankly before he eyed the wrapped box in Prompto’s hands. “Seriously, though, what is it?”

“You have three guesses,” Prompto said as he set the box down on the coffee table. He shrugged off his jacket and neatly cast it over the arm of the couch.

“If you rewrapped the camera, I’m going to shove Galahdian peppers up your nose,” Noctis declared, and Prompto rolled his eyes.

“Just guess!”

Noctis huffed and crossed his arms. “Is it . . . a book?”

Prompto made an x with his arms. “Nope!”

“Vegetables?”

Prompto stared at him. “Why would I wrap vegetables for you?”

Noctis threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! As a gag gift?”

“Guess again.”

Noctis stuck his tongue out and they both broke into giggles. “Okay, okay,” Noctis said once he calmed down. “Hmm . . . did you knit me something?”

Prompto brightened. “I did!”

“Can I open it?” Noctis asked and when Prompto nodded, all-but lunged for the gift. Compared to how Prompto’s gift was wrapped, this one was haphazardly bundled with tape and months-old wrapping paper from the Winter Solstice. And yet, Noctis opened it as if it were the most precious of cargo. When he reached for the fabric, he paused and looked at Prompto in confusion. “Wait—why are you giving this to me?”

Prompto smiled, a little shy now. “Well—I can’t really buy you things since you’re, you know, the prince and all . . . but I figured I could . . . make you stuff.” When Noctis stared and stayed quiet, Prompto turned pink. Out of embarrassment, rather than the normal flustering of Noctis’ tooth-rotting nicknames. “I-I know it’s, it’s not much, really, and you – you probably get a lot nicer, um, things, but really, this is—.”

“I’m going to wear this forever.”

Prompto snapped his mouth closed. “Wh . . . what?”

Noctis held out the blue and white scarf in a reverent manner. “Even in the summer, I’ll wear it.”

From the kitchen, Ignis said, “I doubt Prompto would like his gifts to be the cause of heat stroke, your Highness.”

Prompto laughed, a little shrill, at Noctis’ pout, but his laughter became a squeak when Noctis pinned him underneath a heavy gaze.

“Put it on me,” Noctis practically demanded.

“Huh?”

“The scarf,” Noctis reiterated calmly. “Put it on me.”

Prompto raised an eyebrow. “Buddy, you do know we’re inside, right?”

Noctis pout became exaggerated and Prompto chuckled. Nonetheless, he moved over and gently wrapped the scarf around Noctis’ neck. His boyfriends’ body wash—a citrusy scent that Prompto could smell for days—wafted from his skin, and Prompto was hyper-aware of how close they were in that moment.

“I love it,” Noctis admitted before he pressed a soft kiss against Prompto’s lips. Of course, this being Noctis, the kiss deepened when Noctis wrapped his arms around Prompto’s waist and pulled him closer. Prompto hummed lightly in his throat, almost sighing, as—

An alarm shrieked and pulled them apart before it could go further.

Noctis clamped his hands around his ears. “Iggy— _what the fuck?”_

Over the ringing in Prompto’s ears, Ignis said, utterly unapologetic, a finger pressed on a button on his phone. “Intimate physical contact is inappropriate until you have reached the Fifth Quarter of a courtship.”

Prompto turned red again. Noctis wasn’t too far behind.

* * *

They settled into a routine quickly enough. Every two weeks, Noctis would present him a neatly wrapped gift, and the weeks he didn’t, Prompto would give him a homemade gift. Pretty soon, Prompto wouldn’t have enough space for all the gifts Noctis would buy—and it hadn’t been a year yet. Most couples who went through a courtship liked their Quarters to last less than six months, but early on in the Third Quarter, they had decided each part of the courtship would last a year.

Besides the camera and film, Noctis gifts ranged from tickets to a film they both wanted to watch, a visit to the Chocobo ranch on the outskirts of Insomnia, groceries (which almost gave Prompto a mini heart attack, because he _was not_ expecting to find Ignis on his doorstep at 8 A.M., arms laden with grocery bags), and the standard arcade games.

Prompto retaliated with scarves, and then sweaters and cardigans. He watched tutorials on YouTube and learned how to knit things into actual objects, and soon gifted Noctis a yarn blue Chocobo. Noctis proudly displayed it on his fireplace mantle.

Of course, Noctis couldn’t just continue the established pattern of gifting. No, his boyfriend had to switch things up.

Prompto blew a raspberry as he stood in front of his closet. Before he even realized it had happened, most of his clothes had been replaced with fancier and much more expensive brands that had _Noctis Lucis Caelum_ written all over it. The fabrics were soft to the touch, and Prompto knew they’d be right at home in a boutique catered to the higher class where he’d be terrified to breathe in.

He clucked his tongue and then sent said teen a message. _Where are my sweaters_.

Even though Noctis should be more focused on an etiquette lesson—something about the proper way to greet members of Accordon nobility—he replied quickly. _They were falling apart, baby, so I redid ur wardrobe. I had Iggy take your measurements and order clothes._

Prompto made a face. If he weren’t already used—and the term was applied very, very lightly, it was almost nonexistent, because he really wasn’t—to Noctis’ spoiling and stubborn ways, their conversation might’ve boiled to a fight. Even before their courtship, Noctis liked to treat Prompto to things he felt the blond deserved. Which, in Noctis’ world, was everything he could get his hands on.

> _Ur so lucky I love u._

Noctis responded with a gif of a small child cuddling a Chocobo chick. Prompto cooed for a few moments, shedding a metaphorical tear or two, before he replied.

> _Pay attention to your meeting before Iggy kills u._

Noctis’ response made Prompto snicker. _Too late. Mourn me._

> _I’ll think about it._

Prompto checked the time—he had about thirty minutes before his Altissian Literature class started—and rummaged through his closet in search of items that didn’t look as expensive as the rest of them did. Prompto had no desire to have someone think he was rich and try to rob him on the subway. With fifteen minutes to spare, Prompto pulled on his classic black skinny jeans and an oversized sweater.

Although late February, there was still a winter chill in the air, and Prompto refused to leave the house without something heavy and warm over his shoulders. He missed the thumbholes of his old sweaters.

His phone buzzed the minute he stepped into the cold, and the message made Prompto want to throw his phone down in the sewers. He settled for glowering at the dead flowers on his lawn that he had yet to remove. He should really get around to that. 

His class was canceled.

Prompto stomped back inside and dropped on his couch with a groan. “I just got ready—I could’ve continued my nap.”

His phone buzzed again; it was Noctis this time.

> _how’s class_

Prompto scowled. _It got canceled :/_

> _wish_that_were_me.img_

Prompto replied with two paragraphs worth of laughing Chocobos. Noctis sent an image of Kermit the Frog sobbing into an opened bottle of booze.

Prompto flicked on the TV for some background noise. He could probably work on some homework—Insomnia University didn’t play around when it came to online discussion posts—but that would require Prompto to leave his comfortable spot on the couch for his laptop.

He settled for scrolling through social media while a random cartoon played. As common for his accounts, Prompto liked and shared various positivity and uplifting posts and photos. He took a moment to update his twitter—because apparently he had fans (Prompto refused to look at his follower count on any website he used . . . it’d just make him anxious) and they liked to know what he was up to—with a simple _class got cancelled. it’s nap time._

His phone chimed again. _i wanna fish,_ Noctis texted.

Prompto snorted. _Good luck convincing ur dad._

 _:/_ was the response. _Btw dad wants another brunch_

> _uh oh_

_Uh oh is right_ , Noctis sent back. _I think he knows we’re courting tho_

Prompto worried his bottom lip. _Is this . . . bad?_

> _Not really! But technically, we can’t confirm anything until the 6Q._

Prompto hummed. Although he had devoured and checked out the books on courtship available in the library, Lucian courtship rules gave him a headache. _ah I see. whens the brunch?_

> _Tomorrow :)_

Prompto rolled off the couch with a groan that, if overheard, would have made people concerned for his heath. _So lucky I love you._

* * *

Once Noctis entered high school, King Regis instigated a monthly brunch with his son—but he penciled it in as ‘official capacity’ to observe Noctis’ growth as the crown prince in person. The Council ate it up, according to Noctis, and it was a way for them to catch up with one another since Noctis moved out of the Citadel.

The first thing Noctis had done when they became friends was bring Prompto to a brunch. Ignis gave him a crash course on proper etiquette in a Kings’ presence—though Prompto was now aware that there were many more etiquette lessons in his future as the intended to the crown prince—but despite his worries and anxiety over the first brunch, it had gone well.

As Noctis liked to say, it was history after that.

When Prompto stepped out of the car, Noctis looped an arm through his. Before, that action had given him a heart attack because Noctis liked to keep Prompto to his left—a position symbolically said to be _close to the heart_ , which is why the Kings’ spouse sat (or stood) on their left—and it only fueled the gossip and rumors that said of their “totally oblivious pinning” after one another.

He was used to it now (read: not really but fake it until you make it).

As they made their way up to the little pavilion in the gardens where their brunch would take place, Prompto ignored the sly and knowing looks people would give them and, instead, listened to Noctis talk about his latest economics exam.

They approached the garden pavilion. Clarus and Gladio gave them quiet nods as they stepped onto the platform. King Regis rose with a wide smile once they had gone through the appropriate bows—thank you, Iggy, for all-but braining him with royal etiquette, Prompto thought—and Noctis wasted little time in pulling out a chair for Prompto.

Because Noctis had a higher status than Prompto, technically Prompto wasn’t able to sit down until Noctis did—same thing with eating, actually—but the rules changed when a courtship took place. Because of Noctis’ higher status, _he_ couldn’t sit down (nor take the first bite of his food) until Prompto did. Not for the first time, Lucian courtship rules gave Prompto a headache.

Nonetheless, it was a little telling that no one even batted an eye when Noctis pulled out Prompto’s chair nor took a seat on his right. 

“I’m glad you two traveled here in safe health,” King Regis started once both he and Noctis were seated. “How are your college courses going?”

A server stepped forward to pour them tea and set out plates with little sandwiches as Noctis bemoaned the poor state of his economics course. Prompto barely withheld his laughter. _Poor baby_ , he thought to himself.

“And you, Prompto?”

Prompto blinked for a second before he said, “Oh, they’re going well—I’m enjoying the topics of my literature class.”

“Altissian literature, correct?”

“Yes.”

King Regis then threw out a few recommendations and authors he enjoyed from Altissia’s Romance Era. When the ten minutes of standard etiquette rules and behavior passed, King Regis laced his hands beneath his chin, leaned forward, and gave them a mischievous smile.

“So.” The man drawled out, and Noctis rolled his eyes like the petulant teenager Gladio teased that he was. “If I were to ask, would you give me an affirmative answer?”

Prompto shared a look with Noctis. “It depends on the question, Majesty?”

King Regis chuckled. “Are the two of you in a courtship?”

The air tensed a little as Noctis straightened. He wiped the edges of his mouth with a napkin and looked every bit the prim and proper prince that he had been raised to be. “Officially, I would be unable to confirm such a question until the sixth quarter,” Noctis said, and then smiled a little.

“And unofficially?”

Noctis smile widened. “We are.”

Prompto noticed the shared looks Gladio and Clarus flew above their heads as King Regis clapped. “How wonderful—might I ask what quarter the two of you are in?”

“Fourth,” Noctis said as he relaxed, and then grimaced at the vegetables he found in his omelet. Without looking, he started pushing some of them onto Prompto’s plate. “I’m finally able to spoil my baby.”

Prompto choked on his tea. The King almost bent over in laughter.

Brunch continued on for the better half of the hour until Clarus tapped on King Regis’ shoulder and murmured about a meeting in his ear. Gladio ruffled Prompto’s and Noctis’ hair as he left—he had to train some new Crownsguard recruits. Prompto wished them luck.

“Well then, boys, it seems like our time is up,” King Regis said as he rose to his feet. He looked much lighter—healthier, really—than before, but he always looked like Noctis and Prompto loosened the weight on his shoulders whenever they had brunch.

“Have fun with those stuffy councilmembers,” said Noctis.

Prompto swallowed the rest of his tea in an attempt to hide his laughter. It didn’t really work.

King Regis’ eyes twinkled. “Behave, you two.”

“We’ll behave, Dad, don’t worry,” Noctis said and then pulled on Prompto’s wrist. Ignis trailed after them as they walked through the twisting hallways that led to the royal suites. “It’s Cuddle Time.”

Prompto barely resisted an eager smile. Cuddle Time was his most favorite time of the day. Ignis hummed behind them.

“Just keep it appropriate,” Ignis said with a quirked eyebrow. “Or else the alarm will come out.”

Noctis pouted and grumbled under his breath. Prompto only giggled and assured Ignis they would keep everything above the waist. Noctis’ suite was empty, which was normal, and the teen wasted little time in pulling Prompto toward the couch.

They stumbled onto it in a mess of limbs and laughter that made Ignis huff a breath in amusement. For background noise, Ignis channel surfed for a moment before he settled on a cooking show and made himself comfortable on an armchair. Prompto found himself nestled atop Noctis, and they both melted against each other’s warmth.

Against the curve of his neck, a few moments later, Noctis hummed. “I got you something.”

Prompto huffed as he played with Noctis’ fingers. “But it’s my week to get you something—this is _illegal_.”

Ignis snorted.

“Oh well,” said Noctis, an imprint of a smile on Prompto’s skin. “I want you to close your eyes, though.”

Prompto blew a raspberry but acquiesced. His curiosity climbed up the wall as he felt Noctis place something soft yet wiry in his hands. “What is it?” he asked, impatient at the surprise, and Noctis laughed.

“Can’t you wait a couple more seconds?”

“No.”

Noctis chuckled, a sound that settled deep in the white of Prompto’s bone. “Okay, O Impatient One—open your eyes.”

Pressed into his palm laid a black wristband. Coiled with black material, it looped together with the skull emblem of the royal family. His breath caught in his throat as he slipped it on and turned to stare at Noctis. Noctis, who had one of the softest expressions Prompto had ever seen him wear.

“Did you know today’s the anniversary of when we met?” Noctis murmured before he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Prompto’s head.

Prompto sniffled. “You’re such a _dork_.”

Noctis coughed and his mouth dropped a little. “Me? A _dork?_ I’m sorry, Mr. I Cry Over Baby Chocobos, but you’re the dork in this relationship.”

“But they’re so cute,” Prompto wailed in an exaggerated manner, and Noctis’ laughter floated in the air. It was a sound that Prompto wouldn’t mind listening to for the rest of his life. “Stop! They’re so tiny and little, okay?”

His protests melted in the back of his throat as Noctis saw it fit to pepper the side of his face with soft kisses. Prompto giggled for a moment before he smooshed Noctis away from him for a moment, gathering himself back under control.

“Okay.” Prompto reached for his wallet. “It’s my turn now.”

“You put my gift in your _wallet?_ ” Noctis sputtered in mock indignation, but his laughter ruined the image he tried to make.

“Where else would I put it?” said Prompto. He didn’t bother to fight his smile. “In my shoe?”

“ _Ugh_ , no thanks, I don’t want your foot fungus.”

In retaliation, Prompto’s fingers danced against Noctis’ spine. The teen shrieked with laughter, squirming away from Prompto’s unforgiving appendages.

“Foul! No _tickling!”_

Prompto stuck his tongue out. “Take it back then or suffer.”

“This is treasonous,” Noctis grouched but when Prompto rose his hands again in a threatening manner, he said, “Alright—I take it back. You don’t have foot fungus.”

Prompto vaguely noticed Ignis’ shoulders trembling from the corner of his eye, but he focused on opening his wallet and pulling out the small item. A little patch one could sew onto a bag or a piece of clothing. Prompto wanted all the details to be perfect, so he had worked on this particular present for almost three months.

Images of minor Astrals were very difficult to come across.

By Noctis’ intake of breath, he recognized the jubilant figure curled up in the middle of the patch. “Is that . . . carbuncle?”

“Uh huh,” Prompto replied, all of a sudden shy and nervous. “I, um, figured that—you could take him wherever you go, you know? Since you can’t really . . . take the little figurine with you everywhere, you know? So . . . I made this.”

Noctis’ eyes were suspiciously wet when he kissed Prompto. “I love it,” he said once they parted, both of them well aware of Ignis’ precious finger on that thrice-damned alarm. “Hold on—I got just the thing to put it on.”

It took a moment for Noctis to untangle himself from Prompto, but he soon disappeared inside his bedroom and reappeared with a jean jacket. He tapped the breast pocket with an eager smile. “We can put it on here—hey, Iggy, do we have any sewing stuff?”

“Certainly,” Ignis said and tapped out a message on his phone. “The materials will be here within a few moments.”

When Noctis wore a jacket with the carbuncle patch stitched proudly on the breast pocket, it was to a charity function with children. Various online forums and articles discussed it—they talked about who created it, where it came from, what it meant, why Noctis looked so _soft and warm_ whenever he touched it—but the only ones aware of its’ history were Noctis and Prompto. Iggy, too.

They had various inside jokes and little secrets between them, but perhaps the carbuncle patch was the warmest one of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment/kudos if you liked it!


End file.
